


What good is the warmth of summer

by MissingMissFisher (bokchoynomad)



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M, My First Fanfic, Post-Season/Series 03, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-09-17 23:08:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9350309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bokchoynomad/pseuds/MissingMissFisher
Summary: Stuck in wintry, England, Phryne finds herself longing for the warmth she left behind in sunny Melbourne.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [afterdinnerminx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/afterdinnerminx/gifts), [comeaftermejackrobinson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/comeaftermejackrobinson/gifts).



> So here it is...my very first MFMM phic (well, my first published work of fanfiction for any fandom really!) Huge thanks to @afterdinnerminx for the gorgeous prompt and to @comeaftermejackrobinson for encouraging me to post it! Hope you like it!

_“What good is the warmth of summer, without the cold of winter to give it sweetness.”_

― John Steinbeck, Travels with Charley: In Search of America

 

She couldn’t help lifting a finger to caress the delicate crystalline lace that the frigid air had transformed her puff of breath onto the ledge of the car window where she had leaned her face. Just as quickly as the intricate design came into being, it vanished beneath her warm touch.

 _Just like everything I end up touching_ , she inwardly grumbled to herself in uncharacteristic gloom.

She was on her way back from a particularly taxing meeting with her parents’ solicitors, and wanted nothing more than to escape back to the warmth of her own townhouse and a very hot bath.

In reality, she knew that she was missing the warmth of the summer season in Melbourne. She closed her eyes and imagined the sand and the waves of the foreshore and the last time she had been there before her abrupt departure for England.

It had been midnight, and she should have been asleep so she could be fresh for her early flight. But, she just couldn’t sleep from the excitement of dear Dot and Hugh’s wedding still lingering after the lovely reception she had thrown for them. And from the buzzing deep down inside from the late night stroll she had sneaked in with one particular guest after the others had left.

Her shivering stopped momentarily as warmth bloomed from her chest into her cheeks as she clung to the memory of that walk followed by their unexpected farewell on the airfield a few hours after.

Like an endless cinematic reel, she had replayed it over and over again during the exhausting trek with her good-for-nothing father. The image of her seemingly stoic inspector running towards her and the feel of his hand cradling her head and of his lips finally on hers still didn’t feel real.

There had been a flurry of telegrams since then. Cheeky ones from her. Snippets of poetry from him. And then, when she kept asking in her own way when he was coming, they had stopped arriving. Alarmed, she had fired off immediate ones to Dot and Mac to which they reassured her that as far as they knew, the inspector was fine.

So what had happened to him?

She pulled on one of her fine leather gloves, frustratingly blew one last bit of fog onto the window and angrily wiped it away as the car rolled to a stop. She was Phryne Fisher, and she didn’t need to be moping over some man! She could almost ignore the twinge of her heart as it treacherously gouged the bravado of her inner outburst.

The driver handed her out of the vehicle, and she was just about to flounce her way up her front steps when a voice called out to her.

“I believe you dropped something, Miss Fisher.”

_That voice._

It couldn’t be.

Her head jerked around too quickly before it could stop the hurried trajectory of her body. The sole of her lovely new, patent Mary Janes also betrayed her on a patch of ice that had appeared during her absence. Her shock cancelled out any of her usual ability to maintain balance, and she felt herself flipping backwards.

And found herself caught and embraced by a set of arms she didn’t expect to feel again for a very long time.

“Jack?” She managed to breathe out whilst she caught her breathe, his name nearly visible in the frosty puff of her breath.

“Miss Fisher,” he returned, his beautiful mouth twitching in that delightful way when he tried to cover a smile at another one of her antics. “You might be needing this.” He gave a little shiver at a particularly frosty gust of wind that blew against them.

Relief, joy, and a host of other emotions cascaded through her as she playfully slapped him with the glove he held up after releasing her to balance on the step above him. Before he could react, she threw it to the ground carelessly, grabbed him by the lapels of his overcoat and pulled him more closely towards her.

“Not anymore,” she affirmed. “I’ve found a much better way to keep warm now.”

The mist left behind by her words floated up to mingle together with the warmth of his breath and lips that tasted of summer.

**Author's Note:**

> P.S. I felt I had better amend my previous note after all the beautiful and amazing comments flooding my inbox to clarify the fact that I have actually never written ficfiction before now despite spending the majority of my RL career in communications. My love for Phryne and Jack & MFMM Co. combined with the inspiration, creativity, and overwhelming support of this Phandom moved me to dip my toe into this genre...and I'm now so glad I did! Sending Phryne forehead kisses to you all!


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